


Everything The Light Doesn't Touch

by YetAnotherPersona



Series: A Minor Scheduling Error [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Asriel Dreemurr Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Nonbinary Chara (Undertale), Parent Asgore Dreemurr, Parent Toriel (Undertale), Spoilers - Undertale Pacifist Route, Undertale Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:41:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25996906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YetAnotherPersona/pseuds/YetAnotherPersona
Summary: It’s the day after Chara’s suicide attempt, and Asriel’s whole world has been turned upside down. Mom and Dad seem to have lots of plans in place, but he’s still just trying to figure out where he stands with them, and with Chara. After everything that happened, will his best friend ever trust him again?
Relationships: Asgore Dreemurr & Asriel Dreemurr
Series: A Minor Scheduling Error [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872568
Comments: 29
Kudos: 53
Collections: Fanfiction From The Chara Defense Squad





	Everything The Light Doesn't Touch

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering about the title: it's an homage to a line from a famous film that I drew on for inspiration while writing this story. Perhaps you can figure out what film that is?

You wake to the distant sound of your Dad’s voice, and an uncomfortable pressure on your chest.

You scrunch your eyes shut before your bedroom ceiling has even come into focus. With consciousness comes memory, and yesterday’s memories are ones you’d prefer to wipe from your brain. You exhale slowly and will yourself to go back to sleep – maybe if you do, this will all prove to have been a dream. But your dry throat and the weight on your chest prove too uncomfortable for you to doze off. What _is_ that weight, anyway? It’s familiar, but hard to place when you’re still barely awake.

Your torso is pinned, so you turn your head to the side, and – oh! It’s Chara.

They’re lying on their side, their right arm wrapped around you and their head perched on the end of your pillow such that you just narrowly avoid thwapping them with your snout. You’re surprised to find them here; you don’t remember being woken during the night. But this is your bed, so they must have been the one to come to you, and you just slept through it. Does this mean they’ve forgiven you for yesterday’s betrayal? You’re not sure; you rarely can be with Chara.

You stay very still as you try to figure out where you stand. Chara has every right to be mad at you; just because they came to you for comfort last night in a moment of weakness doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. They forgave you in front of your parents yesterday, sure – they even apologised for pressuring you into doing their plan – but the fact remains that you let them down. You gave the game away the moment Mom showed up, and then told them to their face that you never would’ve gone through with your end of the deal anyway. You’ve learned first-hand that they don’t let go of that kind of thing easy. You rest a hand lightly on their arm, doing your best not to rouse them. This moment will end when they wake, and you don’t want it to end. You wish is could last forever.

That said... Chara’s arm is kinda making it impossible for you to lie comfortably, and their other hand is, like, super digging into your shoulder where you’re lying on it. And you’re very thirsty.

You sigh and carefully lift their arm, trying to extricate yourself without waking them up. They stir slightly as you shuffle out of their grip and to the foot of the bed; glancing back, you see their eyelids fluttering. You tiptoe out into the hall as quickly as you can. If they go back to sleep, great. If not, at least you can delay facing them a little longer.

You can hear Dad clearer now. Sounds like he’s on the phone.

“...Yes, I’m afraid so,” he says. “Toriel is going to look after them while I take Asriel on an outing. It’s hit him rather hard. We agreed it would be best to help take his mind off things.”

Sounds like your day is already planned out for you, then. You sigh and slouch to the bathroom to get some water. Even though you just went out of your way to avoid having to talk to Chara, it still rankles that Dad’s so intent on keeping you away from them too. What does he think you’re going to do?

 _Kill them, presumably,_ your brain supplies. Okay, fair.

You don’t feel brave enough to face Chara. But you don’t want Mom and Dad shepherding you out of their way forever, either. You don’t want to let them down, but you definitely don’t want them to die. What _do_ you want?

This time the answer comes from your stomach in the form of a loud grumble. _Breakfast, for starters._

 _Good shout, stomach,_ you think _. Brain could stand to learn a thing or two from you. As for you, throat, you need to be quiet. I’m on the case, okay?_

You gulp down a glass of water, and step back into the hall right as Chara emerges from the bedroom. You just have time to make eye contact with them before Dad appears at the other end of the hall.

“Ah, good morning, children. I hope you slept well?”

Chara starts at Dad’s voice and turns sharply to face him.

“Y-yes,” you stammer. Chara just nods.

“Excellent. Tori’s making pancakes; I hope you’ll both have some.”

“Awesome!” you say enthusiastically, while Chara nods again. You set off running and are halfway to the dining room before you register that Dad said _Tori_ and not _Mom,_ and that drags all of the things Chara said yesterday back to the front of your mind, and it’s kinda hard to be excited about pancakes in light of that. The fact that you _were_ excited probably makes you look like a jerk. You slow to a walk for the remainder of the journey.

You sit down at your usual place at the dining table; Chara and Dad follow. A moment later Mom enters from the kitchen carrying two stacks of pancakes. There’s a tall one with lots of butter and maple syrup, and a shorter one with cinnamon and chocolate: you and Chara’s respective favourites. You ready your knife and fork and slice into your stack the second Mom puts it down. You’re already chewing before you remember your manners.

“Mm. Thamnks, Mom, thith’th reawy good,” you say with your mouth full.

“Thank you, dear,” she says.

You swallow, and notice that Chara still hasn’t touched their plate. “C’mon, Chara,” you say encouragingly. “I thought you loved chocolate.”

Chara stares down at their hands. “I don’t deserve this,” they mumble.

“Oh, Chara,” Mom says quietly. She sits down opposite Chara and extends a hand across the table. “Please don’t say that.”

Chara ignores her gesture. “But I don’t. I don’t deserve any of this. I don’t deserve any of _you._ I put you all through so much pain, and I couldn’t do the one thing that would actually _help_ you. I just screwed it up and made everything worse. And I can’t even” – they gulp – “I can’t even do your _other_ plan because I’m t-too much of a coward...”

A sob rises in their throat and they cut it off sharply. “I’m sorry. I’ll – I’m ruining your breakfast. I’ll leave.”

And with that, they get up from their chair and stride to the door before you can even finish processing what just happened.

“Chara!” Mom gets up and follows them out into the hall. That leaves you sitting in front of your pancakes, and Dad opposite you. Your appetite seems to have vanished; you put down your knife and fork with a sigh.

“Oh dear,” says Dad.

“I’m gonna go talk to them,” you say, getting up. “It’s not fair for them to miss out on a breakfast like this.”

“I think it would be best to let your mother handle things for now,” Dad says in his _better-not-to-argue-with-me-on-this_ voice. “You and Chara will have time to talk later. Best to eat your food while it’s hot.”

You sit back down, but don’t pick up your cutlery again. “I’m not really hungry.”

He nods. “Understandable. Nonetheless, I’d suggest you at least eat one. I’ve got an outing planned for us today, and it won’t do you good to start on an empty stomach.”

You reluctantly take up your fork and carve off a sliver of pancake. “An outing?”

“Yes. Your mother and I have agreed that she ought to take care of Chara alone for a while; in the meantime, I was hoping you’d accompany me on some errands around the Underground. We ought to be back mid-afternoon. After that, I think it would be a good idea for you and Chara to speak to each other alone.”

You chew slowly and consider the offer. You’re not that buzzed at the prospect of traipsing around the Underground with Dad all morning, and the idea being _ordered_ to talk to Chara grinds your gears almost as much as being forbidden to. In fact, pretty much every way forward from here looks sucky and uncomfortable in one way or other. What you really want is for this whole thing to just have never happened and for everything to go back to normal. But, you reflect bitterly, you had like a dozen chances to make that happen, and you blew all of them.

Things are a lot better than they could be. You and Chara are both still alive; you haven’t been perma-grounded, and they haven’t been sent away as punishment. The deal Dad’s offering is remarkably lenient, all things considered. You decide to just be grateful and take it.

“Okay.” you say. “I’ll come along with you. It’ll be cool to see you on the job.”

Dad smiles, and you help yourself to a bigger bite of pancake. “It’ll give me time to think, as well,” you confess, “about what I’m actually gonna _say_ to Chara. I’m scared that I really screwed things up with them.”

“Hmm,” hums Dad, his tone neither confirming nor denying your sentiment. “It is difficult, at times like this, to decide what to say. When so much damage has already been done, we begin to fear that our words may simply add more. But something must be said eventually.” He smiles at you gently. “I know that you care deeply for Chara, and they care deeply for you. I have every confidence that when the time comes, you will be ready.”

* * *

The first stop is the Hotland conveyors. You lowkey hate how you have to ride all the way through Hotland to get to the rest of the Underground. Your fur makes spending even a short amount of time here a nightmare – you’ve yet to master the cooling magic that lets Mom and Dad wander around comfortably in heavy robes. But improving the slow and bothersome journey is what today’s trip is all about, or so Dad tells you.

“The conveyors make getting through Hotland a lot easier than it used to be,” he explains as you ride down from the apartment building at the edge of New Home. “They offer a safe way of crossing the magma, and they’re considerably faster than walking. However, they’re costly to repair and not very efficient for vertical travel.”

You see what he means. To get down to the next-lowest level you need to ride four zig-zagging conveyors, each one shallowly inclined so that you can still stand straight while you’re on it. You end up going a long way back-and-forth horizontally for just a couple of yards of vertical distance.

“So, there’s a new system in the works that’ll help people get around Hotland much faster,” Dad continues. “We’ll be swapping out the stationary conveyors for a grid of free-moving elevators that can go both vertically and horizontally. And” – and here he gives you a wink – “they’ll be air-conditioned, as well.”

“Awesome!” you say. “When will they be done?”

“Well, the plan is to have the locations of all the stops finalised by the end of this year,” says Dad. “After that it’ll be three years to complete the first round of construction.”

“Whaaat?” you cry. “Three years to build some elevators? I’ll already know cooling magic by then.”

Dad looks at you, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Maybe so, but there’ll still be monsters younger than you. Maybe even fluffier, too!” He ruffles your hair. “They’ll need a comfortable way to get around.”

“I guess,” you grumble.

“Today, our intention is to scout for potential entrances and exits for the elevators. We need places that are flat and open, have foundations that can support the weight of an elevator shaft, and aren’t too far from all the action.” He leads you to the end of an oblong outcrop of orangey rock. “This would be ideal. There’s space to queue and it’s close to new home, which will make it handy for commuters.”

It looks a lot like any other part of Hotland to you, but you nod anyway. Dad waves his hand and sends a glow point drifting to the end of the outcrop, where it flashes and disappears, waiting to be called up again.

“Keep your eyes peeled, Asriel,” he instructs. “You can have a go at marking the next one, if you want.”

“Thanks. How long do they need to stay marked for?” Your glow points have gotten pretty good recently, but you’ve only once managed to make one last longer than a week.

“Only until tomorrow,” Dad assures you. “The engineers will put down their own points after that.”

There’s a vent puzzle at the other end of this platform – fortunately it’s one that you’ve had memorised for a while. You and Dad ride across, his robes billowing comically at each gust. The rushing air affords you a brief respite from the roasting heat which you make sure to take full advantage of; it’ll be several minutes’ walk before you next get a chance to cool down.

Once you’ve both cleared the puzzle (and once you’ve taken a moment to savour the cool air) Dad sets off, shortening his stride a little so you can keep up with him easily. When he next speaks, it’s in a more sombre tone than you’ve heard from him so far today.

“While we walk, Asriel – and if it’s alright by you – I’d like you to tell me a bit more about you and Chara’s plan.”

You bite your tongue. The task in hand had distracted you briefly from yesterday’s disaster, but you’re not surprised that he’s bringing it up. You can’t expect to be let off the hook that easily.

“I’m sorry,” you say hurriedly. “I know it was really dumb, and – and horrible, to try and help Chara... to help them do that.”

“It is alright, Asriel,” Dad says levelly. “You apologised to Chara, and to your mother and me yesterday, and we have forgiven you. I only wish to ensure I have understood the plan in its entirety.”

“Do I have to? To go over it again, I mean?” you ask tremulously. “It was... kind of a dumb plan.”

Dad makes a noncommittal gesture with his head. “Maybe it was,” he admits, “but I would like to reserve judgement until I know all the details.” Seeing your shock, he adds, “Any plan that involves sacrificing lives is unacceptable, of course. However, there may be things that you and Chara discovered while making yours that your mother and I do not know. New angles to consider, or parts that can be repurposed. It doesn’t do to discard something entirely on account of its worst aspects.”

“Okay,” you say hesitantly. Dwelling on your scheme feels a bit more bearable with the assurance that you’re not being made to do it as a punishment, and Dad’s even tone makes it a lot easier to think than it was yesterday, when he demanded an explanation with fire in his eyes and a raggedness to his voice that you only later realised was fear, not anger.

You’re not sure where to start, though. “Um...”

“Let’s begin with what I already know,” Dad suggests. “Chara was going to poison themself using buttercups.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Oh! When we gave you the flowers, that really was an accident. We weren’t trying to hurt you.”

“That is good to hear,” Dad says with just a hint of humour. “So, Chara planned to eat the flowers.”

You nod. “They said we needed something that would look natural, or like an accident. So you and Mom wouldn’t blame me for them...” you stop short of the word _dying._

“I see. And you would absorb their soul?”

“Yeah. Then I’d go through the barrier, to their old village, and g – and get six souls from the humans.”

“Get them?” Dad asks.

“Chara said.” You swallow. “Chara said that there’s a lot of bad humans in the village. Humans who do evil things. We’d find them, and – and take their souls.”

Dad doesn’t say anything to that; he just nods once and keeps walking.

“Then,” you say, “we’d come back and break the barrier. And everyone would go free.”

“I see,” Dad says. “Is that it?”

“That’s pretty much it, yeah.”

“Indeed.” He wrinkles his nose the way he does when he’s thinking hard. “I may ask you some more questions about it later, but that’ll do for now. Thank you.”

You exhale quietly, relieved.

The two of you make your way down to the south end of Hotland, assessing a few different elevator spots as you go. You’re not convinced your judgement is any good, but Dad is keen to hear your thoughts on each potential location. You take turns generating the glow points until you get tired; Dad does them all after that.

When you reach the plateau just above the River Person’s dock, you turn to Dad. “There should probably be an entrance here, right? It’s close to the dock and to Waterfall.”

“You’re quite right,” says Dad. “We could put it right where we’re standing now. What do you think?”

You stop and consider. This intersection gets pretty busy at times; the path to Waterfall lies to the west, the dock is due south, and rest of Hotland is east, the way you just came. An elevator queue slap bang in the middle could really gum things up.

“I think we should put it over there,” you say, pointing to the jutting-out northern end of the plateau. “So that it’s not in the way for people who want to come through here.”

Dad rubs his chin. “It’s a better position for traffic, yes. It’ll take a bit more work to flatten it out though.”

“Yeah,” you concede. “I guess.”

Dad gazes pensively at the craggy rocks for a few more seconds. “Well, we don’t have to decide right away. Let’s mull it over, shall we?”

You nod.

Dad leads you down the stairs to the dock. The River Person is there, of course – they always seem to be ready for you, though you’ve no idea how.

“Good morning, your majesty. Good morning, your highness. Where will you be travelling today?”

“Good morning, River Person. Snowdin, please,” says Dad.

You greet the River Person cheerfully and hop on the boat after Dad. You’re much better suited to Snowdin’s climate than Hotland’s.

“Tra la la,” hums the River Person. “I hope the Queen and your ward are in good health?”

“Chara came down sick yesterday,” says Dad. “But they’re improving. Toriel is looking after them.”

“I am sorry to hear that. They are fortunate to be in such capable hands.”

You float through the dark tunnel. The baking air grows cool and damp as you pass through Waterfall, and then dries out sharply as you approach Snowdin.

“Here we are, then,” says the River Person. “Take care, your majesty. Take care, your highness.”

You get off the boat ahead of Dad, your feet crunching into the freshly-fallen snow. You take a few steps and look back to examine your footprints; from the clean outlines you can tell it’s the perfect texture for making snow angels. You’ll have to come out here with Chara sometime in the next few days so you can enjoy it properly, if your parents let you. And if Chara ever wants to go anywhere with you again.

Dad takes the lead as you walk into Snowdin town. You make a game out of stepping in each massive footprint he leaves while trying not to disturb any more snow. It works to distract you from your anxiety for a few moments, but you have to stop when you reach the well-trodden slush in the town centre. Dad leads you east past the shops, then along a dirt track that wends its way downhill into the woods. As the sounds of town fade away, you hear a steady series of _thunks_ echoing through the trees, punctuated by loud voices.

“We’re planning to build some more houses and a new puzzle sequence outside town,” Dad explains. “That means clearing some trees a little way into the forest.”

You can see the source of the noise now: two dogs are lopping branches off a recently-felled pine while an Ice Cap chops at one that’s still standing. He stops and puts down his axe when he sees you approaching.

“Your majesty. Prince Asriel,” he says reverently. “Good morning! How may I help you?”

“I just wanted to stop by and check on your progress,” says Dad. He casts his eyes over to a neat stack of logs on the other side of the path from the workers. “I’m impressed at how many you’ve brought down already.”

You’re startled by a loud splintering sound. You turn and see that one of the dogs has swung her axe into the felled trunk, embedding it so deep that it stays put when she lets it go. “Morning, Fluffybuns!” she calls, vaulting over the trunk and approaching you; her companion follows.

Ice Cap flinches at the dog’s casual address, but Dad smiles mildly. “Good morning. I was just telling Ice Cap here how impressed I am by this week’s yield.”

“These trees’ve got nothing on us,” gloats the second dog. “We were gonna knock off for lunch in a minute, then haul this lot up to town.”

“Excellent. I hope you don’t mind if Asriel and I join you? We’ve brought food of our own.”

 _We have?_ you think. Sure enough, Dad produces a tub of Mom’s sage-and-garlic-seasoned snails and a bag of bread rolls from his inventory. There’s a ring of logs set up in the middle of camp as a makeshift picnic spot; the woodcutters direct you to it, then go to finish up their morning’s work. You watch as Ice Cap delivers a final series of blows to his tree, sending it plummeting to the ground in a burst of powdery snow. The dogs give a victory howl, then retrieve their pack lunches and come join you.

The lunchtime conversation ends up being dominated by Dad and the dogs – they talk about logging quotas and puzzle layouts, then about Dog One’s new puppy and Dog Two’s barbershop group (it takes you a minute to figure out it’s a singing thing, and not a haircut thing). You’ve never met these guys before, but Dad seems to know all about their lives and their hobbies. You try to keep track of all the new information, but quickly find yourself struggling – if Dad can chat like this to everyone he works with, you’re amazed.

The conversation carries on for a while once you’re all done eating, but eventually Dad says it’s time for you to move on. The woodcutters take that as a signal to get back to work, and set about loading the morning’s lumber onto sleds to bring up to Snowdin town. You and Dad say goodbye and then leave them to it, heading back to town the way you came.

Once the woodcutters’ voices have faded away, Dad says, “I’d like to talk about your plan a bit more, if that’s alright. There’s a few details I think it would be a good idea to go over.”

“Sure,” you say. The shame and embarrassment you felt when he first asked about the plan creeps back into your mind, but you force yourself to ignore it before it can overwhelm you.

“You were going to take six souls from the humans in the village, correct?” Dad asks.

“That... that was the idea,” you say quietly. “I don’t think I would’ve actually been able to do it, though.”

“You probably know best what you are capable of,” says Dad, “but I must say I agree with you there. I struggle to imagine you taking innocent lives.”

“They wouldn’t be innocent,” you protest. “We only ever planned to hurt the bad humans. The ones who’ve hurt others.”

“Of course; forgive me. I must ask, however: how would you tell these humans apart from the others?”

“Chara would tell me which ones were – which ones deserved – the bad...” you find yourself struggling for words. “Chara would know,” you say. You kick a lump of packed snow that’s lying in the path, and it splits into powdery chunks.

Dad furrows his brow. “But would Chara be able to tell you?”

“They said that they’d guide me,” you explain. “Once I absorbed their soul, they’d stay with me, like... a voice in my head. We’d be together forever.”

Dad raises his eyebrows. “Indeed? Do you know where Chara learned that?”

“I...” you rack your brains. You remember Chara insisting, with some force, that they’d confirmed this detail during their research... but they never actually told you how. “They said they’d read a bunch of books about souls and magic in the library. They learned it there.”

“But...” Dad lifts a hand, cautioning. “...You never saw the book yourself?”

“I. Um. No,” you confess, feeling yourself blush. “But they wouldn’t – they wouldn’t lie to me about that, right?” You look at him imploringly. “They wouldn’t have made that whole plan if they weren’t sure they’d still be able to... to...?”

Dad doesn’t speak – he doesn’t even meet your eyes. You stomach sinks as you realise what he’s implying.

“Dad,” you say, feeling the desperation in your voice, the prickling in the corners of your eyes (why do you have to be such a _crybaby?_ ). “Dad. Chara wouldn’t have risked dying for good, would they? They wouldn’t have left me alone like that?”

He stops walking and turns to look at you, his face softening. “I’m sorry, Asriel,” he says, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I did not mean to suggest that. I will be plain with you: there are many books about souls in the Underground, and it has been a long time since I read any of them. If Chara researched this plan well, it is very possible that they know things I never learned, or else that I forgot. We needn’t leap to the worst conclusion.”

You don’t find that speech as comforting as he probably meant it to be, but you nod and swallow your tears. It’s not his fault if what he’s suggesting turns out to be true. Still... you really, _really_ hope it isn’t. The idea that Chara would just lie about something like that, would kill themself forever, and let you help them, and then just be _gone..._

“Let us keep walking for now,” says Dad. “There will be time to dwell on this later, when we’re out of the cold.”

“Yeah,” you say. Now that he mentions the cold, you realise it’s been creeping up on you for a while. “Man, I can hardly even feel my feet.”

“We had better hurry, then,” Dad responds jovially, striding up the path. “Cold feet are a sure sign that it’s time to change course.”

You pass back through Snowdin and reach the River Person’s dock again. You exchange greetings, and Dad has them take you to Waterfall.

“All those trees they’re cutting down in Snowdin won’t go to waste,” he explains during the ride. “They’ll be cut up and brought to Waterfall to be built into new walkways. Our last job for today is to inspect the building sites. There are three we need to visit.”

Waterfall isn’t the sweltering nightmare that Hotland is, but it’s still not that enjoyable to navigate. It’s dark, and damp, and almost as cold as Snowdin with none of the fun. Plus you have to constantly dodge puddles, or else resign yourself to going home soaked up to the knees.

As if all of that wasn’t uncomfortable enough, it’s also home to the tablets that tell the history of humans and monsters – the tablets that first gave Chara the idea for their plan. You’d forgotten how many of these darn things there are, and how randomly scattered they seem to be – you keep coming across more of them as you follow Dad on his inspection. It’s like they’re taunting you or something.

Thankfully Dad does his best to make the trip efficient. At each site he tallies up the pallets of timber, making sure there’s enough ready for tomorrow’s work, then does a quick circuit of the site, poking at scaffolding and weighing the equipment in his hands – safety checks, he explains.

“Say, Dad,” you say as he examines the third and final site. “How come Hotland’s got conveyors, but Waterfall just has these walkways? Wouldn’t people be able to get around quicker with conveyors? Or even elevators, now that we’re building those.”

Dad smiles. “That’s an excellent question, Asriel,” he says, and you can tell he means it. “There’s a variety of reasons. The main factor is the climates of both areas. Waterfall is very damp, which means metal rusts faster here. The moisture also makes large-scale electronics hazardous. Wood can suffer from water damage as well, but we have treatments that make it last longer, and it’s less costly to replace when it does give out.

“Hotland, on the other hand, is much better suited to metal and machinery. Now that we’re starting to crack geothermal energy, at least on the small scale, the conveyors can run non-stop off the heat of the magma below. Meanwhile any wooden structures built there would be at constant risk of catching fire. Conveyors are the natural choice, really.

“Population is the other thing. There’s hundreds of monsters travelling between Hotland and New Home every day, so without some mechanical transport the jams would be even worse than they already are.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, surprised. You hadn’t expected such a thought-out answer to what was a pretty idle question. Clearly there’s a lot more planning behind everything that goes on in this kingdom than meets the eye.

Dad sweeps his eyes over the building site on more time, and gives a satisfied hum. “This all looks in order. Shall we move on, Asriel?”

“Yep,” you say, keen to see the back of Waterfall. But your stomach twists nervously a moment later when you remember that this is your last stop for the day, which means you’ll be going home soon, which means you’ll have to face Chara. Still, there’s no use delaying the inevitable.

You’re wading through a patch of tall sea-grass a short distance from the dock when Dad next speaks. “I have just a few more questions, Asriel, if you are willing to answer them.”

“I think so,” you say.

“Good,” says Dad. “These ought to be the last ones. First: presuming you had succeeded in absorbing seven human souls, how would you have broken the barrier?”

“We’d – I’d,” you correct yourself. “I’d attack it, with a spell.”

“Are you certain you’d be able to produce a strong enough spell?”

“I’d have the power of seven human souls,” you say. “I wouldn’t technically need any of my own soul’s power. Just the ability to produce magic, and to channel the strength of the other souls.” This is one point you’re confident on – Chara showed you the relevant parts from the books they read.

Dad must agree, because he doesn’t push further. “What would happen after that?” he asks.

“I mean... we’d all go free!” you say simply.

“Sorry, I should have clarified: what would happen when we left the mountain and approached the village? How would the humans there respond?”

You stop and consider. “I dunno. We’d only have taken souls from evil humans, so the others wouldn’t mind, right?”

Dad massages his forehead for a second. You pluck a blade of grass and fiddle with it nervously as you wait for him to speak.

Eventually he lowers his hand and says, “Asriel, do you remember that time at school, a year or so ago, when you were arguing with Millie?”

“Oh yeah.” you make a face. “I had a new set of drawing pencils, and she broke them.”

“Yes,” Dad nods. “And when your teacher asked her why she’d done it, do you remember the reason she gave?”

“Um... it was something to do with her friend Kay. She said I’d taken Kay’s doll to play with, and hadn’t asked them first. But I didn’t!” you add defensively.

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Dad reassures you. “I only bring it up to make a comparison. Millie destroyed something you cared about, because a friend told her that you deserved it.”

“I guess.”

“If I remember rightly, Chara had also hoped to borrow those pencils from time to time,” he continues. “They were upset to see them broken, too. So was Mom; so was I.”

“Yeah,” you say resignedly. “I get what you mean. Even if Chara and I only took souls from evil humans, there’d still be people in the village who cared about them, right?”

Dad inclines his head slightly in affirmation.

“So I guess... I guess we’d have to fight them all. Even the good humans.” You pause, then ask, “Do you think they’d end up declaring war on us?”

“I think they would,” Dad says gravely. “At the very least, they would want justice for the humans who had been killed.”

“Oh.” you tug at your ears anxiously. “Yeah. I was only really thinking about breaking the barrier and setting everyone free. I hadn’t considered what would happen after.”

Dad breathes slowly through his nose. He rarely gets angry, and it’s hard to tell when he does, but you suspect now is one of those times. Still, his voice is calm when he next speaks.

“I will only ask you one more question.”

“Okay,” you say. It comes out in a squeak.

“All the problems we’ve discussed thus far could have arisen; but likewise they might not have. Chara might have been able to speak to you, and guide you without issue. You might even have been able to take souls from willing humans; ones who were close to death, and willing to dedicate their souls to a good cause. It is possible that you could have broken the barrier without violence. But at the end of it all, Chara would still be dead.”

Your shoulders are trembling, and this time you don’t manage to hold back your tears. “Th-they said,” you mumble. “They said it would be okay. They’d still be with me. A-and they said that you and Mom would, would understand. That you wouldn’t mind.”

You hear Dad breathe in sharply at that, and for a second you’re frightened that he’s going to scold you. But instead, you see his dim, blurred form kneel in front of you, and feel his huge arms wrap around you protectively. You bury your face in his robes and wind your arms as far round his back as you can.

“But that’s not true, is it Dad?” you sob. “Chara was wrong. You and Mom wouldn’t be okay with them dying; it w-would be really horrible.” You take a shaky breath and continue. “I – I knew that really, even before you came and stopped us. I promise I knew. I was j-just too, too–” your voice cracks, and you bunch your fists in his robes. He pats your back gently.

“I should have stopped them,” you whisper. “It was so stupid of me to go along with that – that terrible plan. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“There, there,” he rumbles, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Everything will be all right now.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. “I just – I just wanted to help. I wanted to make things right, and to be strong, and brave, like you always are. I’m sorry...”

He waits until your tears have abated a little, then murmurs, “Do you want to know a secret?”

You lift your face out of his chest and look into his eyes. “A secret?”

“A secret.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t always feel as strong or as brave as I look,” he says. “I... I didn’t yesterday. Yesterday I felt weak, and frightened, and helpless.”

You stare at him in awe. “Really?”

“Yes. I almost lost Chara. I could have lost you as well. If Mom and I hadn’t arrived home when we did... if you’d gone to the human village... if they’d attacked you...” He hugs you again. “I wouldn’t have been able to do anything to help. I have no idea what might have happened.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I really screwed up. I’m sorry.”

He combs his claws gently through your hair. “Do you know why I took you around the whole Underground today, Asriel? And why I showed you all these different projects we’re working on?”

“I don’t,” you admit. “Why... did you do that?”

“I wanted you to see the whole of our kingdom, and the things that go on here every day. I wanted to show you all the ordinary people, who do ordinary, important jobs that keep things running. These are all your people, Asriel. And one day when you’re older, your Mom and Dad’s time as rulers will come to an end, and it will be your turn to lead them.

“When I was young, I didn’t handle the responsibility of kinghood as well as I do now. I thought leadership was all about dramatic action, and impressive speeches, and big fights. But the truth is those things only happen occasionally – and they’re rarely as fun as they look. Most of the time, being a leader is hard work. It means making difficult choices: not just big ones, but little ones too. Sometimes you have to make plans and stick to them, even if it takes years to see any results. Sometimes there’s no way to avoid killing some trees, and all you can do about it is try and put the wood to good use. And sometimes life will offer you shortcuts, or tempt you into giving up something precious to get what you want right away. True leadership is about doing things the right way, the hard way, even if it means taking longer to get there.”

“I get what you mean,” you sniffle. You wipe your nose on your sleeve so you can talk properly. “If we’d done Chara’s plan, even if it had all gone the way they wanted, we’d probably have ended up at war again. If we lost, we’d end up right back where we started. The only difference would be that Chara would be gone, and they’d have died for nothing. I wanted so badly to help, and for us all to be free, that I didn’t think anything through.”

You take a moment to regain your composure, then carry on. “Talking about it all again today was hard, but it helped me understand a lot of stuff. So did going around the Underground, seeing everything you do. Your ambassador idea... I thought it sounded kinda silly this morning. Having to wait years and years before even starting to negotiate for our freedom. But what you said about doing things the right way, even if it takes longer, and even if it’s less exciting... that makes sense. I think I get it now.

“The idea of being king one day, of doing all these different jobs, of maybe being in charge of talking with the humans... all of that is still scary to me. I’m... I’m not ready for it, at all, really. And I guess that proves I wasn’t ready for Chara’s plan, either. But at least I understand a bit better, now, what it all means. Leadership, and responsibility, and stuff. And at least I feel like, like... even if I can’t do it now, I might be able to one day. When the time comes, I think I’ll be able to do it right.”

Dad smiles at you warmly. “Well said, my son. I am very proud of you.”

You sigh, suddenly exhausted after that speech. “Thanks. But... I don’t know if I can forgive myself for what I almost did yesterday.”

“It is often difficult to forgive oneself for one’s mistakes,” Dad says sadly. “But that difficulty is proof that you have a good and compassionate heart. You’ll get there, in the end, and until then I hope that having your mother’s forgiveness, and mine, will help.”

“Thanks,” you say again. “I still wish that I could go back and undo all of this, though.”

“Of course, of course,” Dad murmurs. “But none of us can change the past. All we can do is try to live with the regret, and resolve to learn from our wrongdoings. There is no doubt at all in my mind that you will succeed in doing both.

“Yes, things could have gone better than they did. But let us also remember that they could have gone much worse. Fate seems to have smiled upon us today, and given us all a second chance. It is up to us to make the most of that chance.”

You smile through the last of your tears. “You’re right.”

Dad offers you his hand and leads you along the tunnel, back towards the dock, for one last boat ride. “Come. Let us return home.”

* * *

Going home, of course, means enduring Hotland‘s scorching atmosphere one more time. You bid the River Person good afternoon, get off the boat, and walk to the intersection above the dock, where Dad pauses and surveys the area the same way he did this morning.

“You know, Asriel,” he says thoughtfully, “I think you’re quite right about the northern end being the better spot for the elevator. It’ll take a bit more work to build there, but it’ll prove more efficient in the long run.”

“Cool,” you say. You wave your hand, summoning a glow point more easily than you’ve ever managed to before – so easily that it takes you by surprise, in fact. A flick of your wrist sends it flying over to the spot you chose this morning. Dad nods in satisfaction, and you set off together for the capital.

Unburdening yourself to Dad left you in good spirits, but your fear begins to reassert itself as you get closer to the castle. Dad must sense your unease, because he puts an encouraging hand on your shoulder as the two of you walk side by side along the grey stone path leading through the main gate.

“Do you think you will be ready to speak to Chara when we return?” he asks quietly.

You nod. “I think I have to do it now. I know what to say, and I think I can say it right now, and stand by it. I’m just... scared.” You sigh. “I wish I could be braver.”

“You already are,” Dad says firmly. “Bravery lies not in the absence of fear, but in facing fear and overcoming it. I have seen you do that already today. You’re ready.”

You’re through the gate and coming up to the front door now. Mom must have been standing ready, because she opens the door as you approach, her arms open wide to welcome you both.

Once you’ve shared a long group-hug, Dad asks in a low voice, “How is Chara?”

“They’re fine,” Mom says with a smile. “They’d like to speak to Asriel, if he’s–”

“I’m ready,” you say; the confidence in your voice surprises even you.

Mom looks down at you and smiles again. “Excellent. They are in the bedroom.”

“Thanks,” you say. Deep breath. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Mom and Dad whisper in unison. Mom even throws a goofy thumbs-up in there. Then they turn and head for the kitchen, where they’ll be out of earshot.

You walk down the hall to the room you and Chara share. The door is slightly ajar. You knock.

“Come in,” you hear Chara call.

You take one more deep breath, steel yourself, and push the door open.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [lion-buddy](https://lion-buddy.carrd.co/) for providing the illustration of Asgore and Asriel on the River Person's boat! They've done lots of great Undertale art, so be sure to check them out.


End file.
